


Summon The Rains Now

by lovebashed



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebashed/pseuds/lovebashed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A world with monsters and natural disasters. Gerard and Frank in the backyard of an abandoned house, comforting each other while they wait for the sun to set and the night to fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summon The Rains Now

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Penelope by Pinback and Our Lady Of Sorrows by MCR. Also inspired by a [We Are Cities](http://we-are-cities.livejournal.com/140182.html) prompt.  
> Thank you turnyourankle for the beta. Written in 2007.

Gerard’s taken up praying. Clutching Frank’s meerschaum rosary in his wet hands so hard that it leaves full moon impressions on his skin, he murmurs promises to the invisibles that he's never really considered before.

He is dirty and cold; licorice-black hair in his eyes as he shakes in the autumn-dampened grass in his midnight-blue jacket, waiting for the long day to come to an end. In the backyard of an abandoned terrace house, he waits for the fat sun to get swallowed by the muddy ground and the nightfall to wrap them up in comforting darkness. 

They’re still in Belleville, they have been for far too long, and Gerard knows they have overstayed their welcome. 

He doesn’t remember when it got this bad, remembers warm summers and lush apple trees instead. His and Mikey’s wooden toy swords that at some point got replaced with real ones, their mother’s quirky dimples when she smiled for the very last time. His brain has blocked a good portion of memories however, memories that no one should have to live through more than once.

Meadow flowers have tempted their faith and against all odds crept over the dead, battle-exhausted land. Gerard thinks he might want to draw them if he wasn’t so tired. It’s the first time in weeks he’s even thought about the days when he was still just a starving artist, not a starving survivor of a holocaust. 

Breathing in smoke from his cigarette, he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander. His right palm rests upon his weapon, calloused fingers softly caressing the smooth blade, the rosary still wound around his hand.

Minutes later, Frank slumps down next to him on the grass, his holey jeans soaking up the wetness, but he looks warm still. 

‘There’s frozen veggies in the house. Baby carrots or something. Mikey found ‘em while digging through the freezer,’ he says. ‘Oh and canned pork also, if you’re into that.’

Frank huddles in his soft, well-loved hoodie. His fingers momentarily curling around the tips of Gerard’s as he steals his cigarette remains. Gerard gives him a sympathetic smile. 

Frank huffs a laugh. ‘Yeah, I guess at times like this I should just give up my beliefs and eat like the rest of you.’ 

Gerard watches him behind heavy lids, feeling oddly serene. ‘No -- no, actually, I think maybe you shouldn’t,’ he says. Frank makes a half nod after a while, eyes poring over Gerard’s face like he's never really looked at him before.

‘We need to… We can’t stay here anymore,’ Frank breathes out, flailing his hand a little desperately, cigarette ashes falling on their knees like fucked up snow. ‘ _We need to leave._ ’

‘I know -- I _know_ we do.’ Gerard’s relieved he’s not the only one who's been thinking about it after all. Frank looks equally relieved as he throws the cigarette away. It lands on a small, mossy rock and smokes there for a while before burning out. 

‘Good. Because Mikey’s talking about fixing the holes in the walls, patching the fucking curtains hanging over the windows,’ Frank sighs. ‘He’s not… He doesn’t wanna leave Jersey behind and I’m getting fucking restless, so fucking _scared_.’

‘I know. I’ll talk to him,’ Gerard says gently, unclenching his stiff fingers from the switchblade, letting go of the weapon that’s resting on the ground between them in order to run his hand along Frank’s back. The rosary digs into Frank’s naked skin as Gerard pushes his hand inside Frank’s hoodie and t-shirt, fingers pressing cold kisses on Frank's warm stomach. ‘I’ll make him understand, yeah?’

Frank nods before he hides his face in the crook of Gerard’s neck. ‘Yeah,’ he mouths his agreement against Gerard's protruding collarbone. 

Decision settles comfortably in his chest and Gerard hasn’t felt so much in control in months. They’ll move on, find other survivors behind statelines, and kill every motherfucker that gets in their way. 

But he is getting sleepy, so he concentrates on the tranquility of the evening, clearing his mind from every battle plan that has seeped there in the course of the day. Frank feels solid against him, grounding him to the present, keeping him captured in the backyard with the wild flowers and the last rays of the sunken sun that rebel against the darkening blush of the night. He has missed feeling whole, and he thinks he will savor it for as long as he can.


End file.
